It seems several times, over the last couple of weeks, conversations have turned to bucket lists. I listened attentively and pondered more intensely. Are there things I would like to do before I die? Oh yes. But, it seems my bucket list strays from all others.

To be vigilant to the symmetry of life- especially when the illusion of chaos tempts my eyes.

To appreciate that the sunrise this morning, and the sunset this evening, will never, ever, be repeated.

To know the power of my words to and upon another – and to myself. That includes spoken and unspoken.

To see a flash of color and see a hawk, heron, eagle, or other bird I have never seen before.

To see a shadow, swaying bent tree, feather shaped cloud, the windy hands of life caressing the grass, a bunny or squirrel, a sliver moon, and road ribbons leading me on my journey.

To awaken each morning with the intent of living fully in each moment knowing there is no guarantee I will have another.

To stand physically weary and yet be drawn to a rain drop dragon on spring’s first bud.

To savor this creation, called me, perfectly imperfect.

To love without conditions – including myself.

To laugh and hear the whisper of grace, “Little one, you are the bucket.”